


Claus and Effect

by therumjournals



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), santa - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, North Pole, Santa Claus - Freeform, Santa's Elves, Santa's Workshop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21823093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therumjournals/pseuds/therumjournals
Summary: North Pole AU
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	Claus and Effect

Jim Kirk threw another log on the fire, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney and out into the wintery night. He straightened up, glanced at the rolltop desk with its waiting stacks of paperwork, and decided to take another few minutes before he settled in. He poured himself a mug of hot chocolate from the steaming kettle, dropped in a few marshmallows, and stirred idly with a candy cane as he gazed out the kitchen window at the steadily falling snow. 

The first sip of warm chocolate and peppermint energized him, as it always had, bringing a rosy flush to his cheeks. He took another sip, and headed back to his desk with renewed purpose.

No sooner had he settled into his seat at the desk than he heard the distinct sound of knocking, coming from the front door of the cottage. “What do the Elves want now?” he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes as he pushed back his chair and stood with a sigh. 

He crossed the room and braced himself for the rush of cold air as he pulled open the door. But the person standing at his doorstep was definitely _not_ from his workshop, and so where Jim had automatically directed his eyes – at about the height of his own waist - was most certainly _not_ the location of his visitor’s face. 

He glanced up quickly and was met with the sight of dark eyes peering at him from above a woolen scarf. The visitor’s head was uncovered, black hair coated by a dusting of snow, and the pointed tips of his ears a rather alarming shade of bluish green. 

“You’re not an Elf,” Jim observed.

The man on the doorstep shook his head, and brought a mittened hand up to tug at the scarf. “My name is Spock. May I come in?”

Jim wasn’t suspicious by nature, but he got so few visitors up at the North Pole that he hesitated at the request.

“You’re not from the media, are you? A reporter or something?”

“I am a scientist.”

A particularly strong gust of wind whipped past them, blowing a flurry of snow into the cottage. Jim’s observant eyes caught his guest suppressing a shiver. He glanced past him into the snow-filled darkness, shrugged, and gestured for him to come inside.

Spock stepped across the threshold just as the wind blew the door shut with a decisive thunk. Compared to the frigid air outside, the warmth of the cottage was almost oppressive, and Jim watched, fascinated, as his guest unwound the scarf from around his face, revealing high cheekbones, pale skin, and full lips. He stared for just a moment too long before he remembered his manners. 

“Hot chocolate?”

A second of hesitation and then – “Tea, if you have it, please.”

Jim frowned, recovered, and headed into the kitchen to pour his guest a warm drink. A quick search of his cupboards revealed tea in the flavors of sugar cookie, gingerbread, and snickerdoodle. After a moment’s consideration, he dropped one of each teabag and three heaping spoonfuls of sugar into the steaming mug.

Back in the living room, he handed Spock the mug and offered him a seat in one of the deep parlor chairs that were pulled up close to the fire. He glanced briefly at his desk as he took the other seat, torn between hospitality, curiosity, and the knowledge of just how much work was still left to be done.

“I apologize if I am interrupting,” Spock said.

“Oh, you are,” Jim said, though he made sure that Spock could see the twinkle in his eye to convey that there were no hard feelings. “I know it’s still three weeks away, but as you can imagine, there’s quite a lot involved in preparing for such a large operation.”

“Operation?”

“Yeah, you know…Christmas.”

“I am unfamiliar with Operation Christmas. Is this a military undertaking?”

“A military…?” Jim couldn’t fathom his guest’s confusion. “It’s Christmas, Mr. Spock, Christmas! And, being Santa Claus, it’s kind of my job to make sure the whole thing goes off without a hitch.”

Spock’s mouth had opened slightly. “I’m sorry, you said your name is…”

Jim leaned forward, unable to resist a small smile. There were so few people that he got to surprise with this particular revelation anymore, he had to admit to enjoying the opportunity when it came around. “I’m Santa Claus.”

He watched with curiosity as his visitor processed this piece of information, jaw tightening, eyes widening slightly as though he was trying hard to suppress any visible reaction. When he finally got it together to respond, his voice was strained.

“I confess, I find that…difficult to believe.”

Jim shrugged. “Sorry, but it’s true. If you were expecting a jolly fat man with a long white beard, you’re a few decades too late. Truth be told, I’m not averse to looking the part, but no matter how much fruitcake I eat, I can’t seem to pack on the pounds.” He grinned at Spock and winked. “I am pretty jolly, though.”

“I was told that Santa Claus is a mythical being, a fabrication with which parents mislead their children, and a cultural construct used primarily to advance commercial interests.”

“I’m flattered,” Jim said, leaning back in his chair. This Spock fellow had a way with words, and he had to admit that he found himself a bit enamored. He spread his arms. “Nevertheless, here I am, as real as you are. And, might I add, currently responsible for a pile of paperwork that I just know is growing as we speak.”

Spock glanced at the desk. “My apologies. I meant no offense. As I said, I am a scientist, and an explorer, and my interest is merely in seeking out answers about the unknown.”

Now Jim was curious. “An explorer… So…if you didn’t come to the North Pole looking for Santa Claus, what _exactly_ are you doing here?” 

“I was undertaking a routine scientific mission, traversing the northernmost region of the planet. My readings indicated an anomaly on the surface, and when I adjusted my course to pursue an investigation, my shuttle encountered significant turbulence and I was forced to make an emergency landing just a few kilometers from this location.”

Jim nodded thoughtfully. “Your shuttle must have clipped the cloaking field. Most people don’t get that close.”

“The field, as you say, seemed to be fluctuating – if it had not been, I don’t believe my instruments would have been able to detect the anomaly indicating life signs.”

Jim sighed. “Yeah, that thing’s old as hell. It’s on my list for the Elves to fix, but unfortunately they have other priorities at the moment. Still,” he said with a grin, “as anomalies go, I’m not that bad, right?” 

The corner of Spock’s lips twitched. “I have encountered worse,” he admitted with a nod. 

“Wonderful. More tea?”

Spock glanced at his mug before handing it to Jim. “Do you have anything less…sweet?”

Jim blinked at him, momentarily baffled by the request. “I, uh…can try to find something else?”

He scrounged up a tin of loose-leaf wintergreen tea and steeped it in a small teapot, anticipating – maybe hoping - that their conversation would last a while longer. He couldn’t in good conscience serve the tea without any sugar at all, but managed to restrain himself to half a spoonful for the whole pot. 

He brought the teapot out on a tray, along with another mug of hot chocolate for himself and a plate of colorfully decorated cookies between them.

“Your hospitality is truly appreciated, Mr. Claus.”

Jim laughed. “Please. Call me Jim.” He helped himself to a cookie and met Spock’s raised eyebrow with a smirk. “Jim Kirk’s the man. Santa Claus is the legend. Though I know a few girls in Iowa who might beg to differ.”

“I am certain,” Spock murmured, biting into a cookie of his own. He chewed thoughtfully. 

“Go ahead,” Jim urged him on. “I know you have more questions.”

Spock paused as though he weren’t sure whether he should say what he was thinking, but curiosity got the best of him in the end. “An acquaintance of mine, a physician as a matter of fact, had given me to understand that it would be…difficult to distinguish me from one of these being you mentioned, these _elves_.”

Jim gave Spock an appraising look. “There’s a slight resemblance in the ears, I suppose, but that’s about the extent of it. Consider yourself lucky. The elves are productive little buggers, but they’re about half your size, with squeaky voices and weird feet that curl up into little points. If they didn’t wear red and have bells on their shoes, they’d practically blend in with the landscape.” 

“Where do they come from?”

“Crash landed, oh, centuries ago. They found the environment here far more hospitable than their own planet, El – hence the name - and proceeded to colonize the North Pole.”

“And you…Santa Claus?”

“Around that same time, a man by the name of Nicholas Kirk – an explorer, like yourself – found his way here. The Elves had already established a small settlement, with living spaces and workshops and the like, and they took Nicholas in when they found him wandering about, lost in the snow. The Elves are great philanthropists, you know, and they love to work.” Jim had been gazing at the fire as he spoke, but now he took a moment to look at Spock to emphasize his point. “Seriously, they _love_ it. First thing they did when they discovered civilization was to start sneaking into cobblers’ houses to spend all night making shoes, just because they felt like it.” Jim shook his head, still in disbelief after all these years. “Shit’s ridiculous, if you ask me. Anyway, when Nicholas saw what they could do, he had an idea – let the Elves spend all their time making toys, and then one night every year, he’d personally go around and give them away to all the little boys and girls of the world. Well, technically he started with just Europe. But you get the idea.”

“Fascinating.”

“It is, isn’t it? Of course, it would have been nice to know all this before I turned 21.” Jim leaned forward, elbows on his knees, inviting Spock into his confidence. “So I’m at the bar one night…carousing, shall we say, and this dude shows up to tell me, ‘Hey, guess what, your dad _hasn’t_ been dead all these years, he’s actually been up at the North Pole playing Santa Claus, but oh, by the way, _now_ he’s dead, so now technically _you’re_ Santa Claus, and even though you’ve kind of been a fuck up until this point, I’m sure you’ll be awesome, in fact I dare you to be an even _better_ Santa Claus than your dad was, no pressure, the sleigh leaves at 8 o’clock tomorrow morning, see you then.” Jim took a breath. “I mean, whoa, right? Talk about a major life change.” 

Jim glanced at Spock, who was staring at him and seemed unable to respond. His eyebrow appeared to be stuck in a fully upright position. Jim wondered if maybe he had shared too much, too soon, and the air between them suddenly felt a bit strained.

“Well,” he said, slapping his hands on his knees and standing up from his chair. “I’d love to chat more, but Christmas calls.”

Spock seemed to come back to life, standing along with Jim. 

“Is there a…Mrs. Claus…er, Kirk?” he asked.

“No, there isn’t.” Jim chuckled and crossed his arms. ‘Not really interested in the _Mrs_ part, if you catch my snowdrift,” he added with a wink.

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” Another awkward moment passed. “Um, listen, I don’t want to make you go all the way back to your shuttle in this cold. I’d invite you stay but, well, I’ve only got the one bed, sooo…” He leaned down and pressed a button on what looked like an ancient rotary phone. Spock heard the distant sound of sleigh bells, followed almost immediately by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Jim called. The door swung open and three Elves tumbled inside. “Hey guys, this is my new friend Spock. He’s having shuttle trouble and needs a place to spend the night. Would you mind taking him over to the village and finding him a place to sleep? And maybe in the morning see what you can do about getting his shuttle off the ground?”

The Elves nodded and talked rapidly to each other in their language, their voices high but soft. Spock was wrapping his scarf around his neck, and the Elves gestured for him to follow.

“Jim…I am greatly indebted to you for your kindness.” 

Jim smiled. “And I to you for your company. Gets a bit lonely up here, as you can imagine.”

“I can.”

Jim hesitated. “Look, if you’re not too eager to take off tomorrow, how about I come by the village and give you a tour. I mean, wouldn’t want your scientific exploration to go completely to waste.”

Spock nodded. “I am amenable to the suggestion,” he said. The words sounded stiff, but Jim couldn’t help but notice that they seemed suffused with an undercurrent of warmth. 

Jim grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Tomorrow, then.” He watched as the Elves led him out into the cold night, then turned back to his desk and sighed. The sweetness of the hot chocolate and the novelty of conversation combined to give him a pleasant buzz, and he was in no hurry to tamp it down with the drudgery of data entry tonight. He blew out the candles and headed for the bedroom instead.

**

If Vulcans were capable of bursting into laughter, Jim was pretty sure that’s what Spock would have been doing when Jim met him in the village square the next morning. Jim had awoken early and, eager to find himself once again in the company of his new friend, thrown on his red velveteen jacket with the white trim, cinched his black belt around his waist, and pulled his floppy red cap down over his ears before heading out into the icy morning. And now Spock was eyeing him up and down and barely – just barely – suppressing a smirk. 

“What? Oh come on. There’s a reason Santa Claus dresses like this, you know. It’s very…practical.”

“I see.”

Jim felt his cheery mood starting to dissipate in response to the implied mockery, and tried quickly to change the subject. 

“So, how did you sleep?”

“The bed was quite small. It was…slightly less than comfortable,” Spock conceded. Jim hadn’t known him long but he had a feeling that, coming from Spock, this meant it had pretty much been the worst night of his life. 

Jim winced. “Sorry. Didn’t really think about that. Come on, let me make it up to you.”

He took Spock first to the Bakery, where they watched the gingerbread house assembly and ate waffles with copious amounts of maple syrup. He showed Spock the mail room, where Elves trucked in load after load of letters. Spock’s face took on a look of surprise as he noticed the cluster of scanners and wall of computer screens in the back of the room. Jim laughed. “Yeah, we’re pretty automated up here these days. Can’t keep up with scrolls and quills like we used to. It’s all databases and algorithms now, gotta track who’s asking for what, and what’s Susie got to do to get off the naughty list, and what’s the likelihood that Johnny will have a Christmas-ruining meltdown if Bobby gets a Playstation 17. Things like that.”

He saw Spock’s eyes widen a little as he finally seemed to comprehend the daunting task the Jim was facing. “Yeah, Christmas is a _bit_ of a logistical nightmare. Of course we try to keep that little reality under wraps – heh,” Jim paused to chuckle at his own joke. “But with technology constantly improving, we’re just about managing to stay on top of things.”

He resisted the urge to grab Spock’s hand and pull him along. “Come with me. Wait until you see the Sleigh!”

Jim bounced on the balls of his feet as he pulled open the door to the hangar. He was so excited, he didn’t register the look of confusion on Spock’s face as they stepped into what appeared to be a gigantic empty warehouse. 

“Jim…where is the sleigh?”

“Look up!”

Spock looked up to the ceiling where Jim was pointing. “Those look like-“

“Transporters!” Jim exclaimed, beaming. “You should see this place on Christmas Eve. All 36 hours of it. We’ve got the lights set to red and green – green to beam up the gifts, red to beam back the cookies.” He winked at Spock, who still looked a bit perplexed. “I’m telling you, technology is what keeps us running here. Using an actual sleigh became impractical pretty early on. I heard my grandfather had a shuttle fleet going for a while, but even that wasn’t sufficient. So here we are! We call it ‘The Sleigh’ for tradition’s sake.”

“You do seem to appreciate tradition,” Spock murmured. Jim scowled as he saw Spock’s eyes once again flick to his hat. “And what about the…magical ruminants?” 

“The what? Oh! The reindeer!” Jim laughed. “Genetically modified actually. And don’t worry, they’re living their best life. The Elves love ‘em, take great care of the ones that stuck around. I’ll take you over to the stables if you want.”

He saw Spock hesitate, and felt his spirits plummet. “My apologies, Jim. Your hospitality is much appreciated, but I fear I must-“

“Of course. You’ve got to get back to your shuttle, I understand. Get that all fixed up and blow this gingerbread stand, huh?”

“Gingerbread?”

“Never mind.” Jim led Spock out of the hangar and motioned to a couple Elves that were passing by. 

“Can you guys grab your tools and take Spock to his shuttle?” Before he could blink, three more Elves appeared, pulling a large toolkit on a toboggan. Jim glanced at Spock. “Did I mention they’re fast?” 

“I must thank you,” Spock told him. “For your assistance and for your…good cheer.”

“Thanks. Kinda comes with the job description. And thank you, for being my first visitor in, well…ever.”

Spock held up his fingers in the ta’al. “Live long and prosper.”

Jim smiled. “And a Merry Christmas to you!”

He watched as they disappeared into the swirling snow, then turned and headed home.

*

He should have been busy. He had naughty and nice lists to compile and fringe cases to evaluate. He had quality control and maintenance checks to perform. He needed to visit the workshop and make sure the Elves had appropriately allocated resources to account for the upsurge in demand for vintage jetpacks. He had Elf Appreciation Day to plan. And yet… 

He found himself collapsing into his coziest chair and staring gloomily into the crackling fire, wishing that Spock hadn’t been in such a hurry to leave. He must have drifted off at some point, because the next thing he knew he was startled awake by a knock on the door. Jim roused himself, rubbing his eyes to clear the visions of sugar plums from his head. Assuming some sort of Elven emergency, he glanced down as he opened the door and found himself looking, once again, at Spock’s crotch. “I have _got_ to stop doing that,” he said to himself as he looked up to meet Spock’s eyes. He hadn’t realized how much joy the sight would bring him, and couldn’t help but let a grin spread across his face. “Spock! Um…can I help you? Is everything okay?” Behind Spock, he could just make out the shape of a shuttle through the falling snow. “Your shuttle’s fixed!”

“It is. And yet, I found it difficult to – what was it that you said before – ‘blow up this gingerroot stand’?” 

“Ha ha, no, Spock, it’s- listen, why don’t you come in out of the cold?” Jim found himself reaching out to touch Spock’s elbow, guiding him inside. 

They found themselves seated across from each other as they had been the night before, and Jim felt a warmth inside him that had nothing to do with the blazing fire. 

“I was wondering,” Spock began, “with Christmas so close at hand, if there is…anything I can do to help?”

“Yes!” As soon as he said it, Jim realized that his response may have come across as somewhat overeager, but it was too late now. Furthermore, he had absolutely no idea what Spock could possibly help with that he and the Elves couldn’t do themselves, but he vowed to come up with something as quickly as possible. 

At his affirmative response, Spock’s face softened, and he seemed to relax infinitesimally into his chair. “Where shall we begin?”

“We shall begin by finding you a more comfortable place to sleep. We’ve got three weeks until Christmas and you’ll be out of here tomorrow if you have to spend another night in an Elf bed. I’ll get someone down at the workshop to build something for you, something custom.” He reached for the phone.

“That will not be necessary, Jim. I will sleep in my shuttle.” 

Jim’s hand paused halfway to the phone. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. It is perfectly comfortable, warm, and well-suited to my preferences.”

“Well…okay, then. Sleeping arrangements settled. Now, let’s put you to work.”

**

Spock’s return lifted Jim out of his fog of inaction. The next morning found them both in the toy workshop, where Jim tasked Spock with quality control over Chemistry Sets, Galactic Explorer Kits, and Games (Chess, 3D). As the days passed, he added more and more duties to Spock’s task list, as the Vulcan seemed almost as enthusiastic about the work as the Elves were. But Jim did make sure to take time out from their days for lunch at the Sweet Shoppe, or to show Spock more of the village. He loved watching Spock’s expression as he marveled at the Elves’ speed and efficiency, tracking the presents along the assembly line, through the wrapping station where the Elves’ hands moved so fast they appeared as a blur, then into the network of pipes which deposited them in the Sleigh, ready to be transported into homes across the world on Christmas Eve. And he glowed with pride when Spock praised it as “a very logical system.”

One evening, Spock wasn’t in the workshop when Jim came looking for him. They usually walked together back to the cottage at the end of the day to share supper and tea before Spock retired to his shuttle. He checked the mail room, the Sleigh, and even the old navigation tower, but Spock was nowhere to be found. As a last attempt, he was on his way to the bakery when he spotted light from under the stable doorway spilling out onto the snow. 

He pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside. Spock stood beside one of the stalls, his fingers pressed into the soft fur of a reindeer’s muzzle, his eyes closed. Not wanting to interrupt, Jim stood respectfully to the side until the reindeer shook himself, jingling the bells on his antlers and startling Spock out of his trance. 

“Looks like you made a friend,” Jim said, stepping closer to give the reindeer a pat. “This is Blinker. He’s reindeer royalty - Rudolph and Vixen are his ancestors, ever heard of ‘em?” He swiped a carrot from a nearby bin and handed it to Spock. “Here, give him one of these and he’ll be yours forever, isn’t that right, Blinker?”

“He is very happy here,” Spock said, as Blinker leaned down to gently accept the carrot from his hand.

“Well that’s great to hear, but...how do you know?”

“Our minds were briefly joined.”

“You…read Blinker’s mind?” 

“That is one way to put it.”

“But why? No offense, Blinker.” Blinker huffed in response.

“I was hoping to learn more about…the village, and its history…and you.”

“I see. And did you?”

“Indeed. He says that you are very kind.”

“Aww, thanks.”

“And you are very jolly.”

“Well, I should hope so.”

“And you are…lonely.”

“I am…” Jim trailed off, having spoken before he thought. His eyes met Spock’s, and the mix of pity and sadness that he saw there made him look away. “Ahem. There you go, Blinker, giving all my secrets away,” he chided, moving closer to scratch the reindeer behind his ears and managing to avoid Spock’s eyes. “Just for that, you’ll pull the Elflings to school tomorrow.” Blinker grunted in protest. “Eh, you know you need the exercise. You’re getting a little chubby hanging out in this warm barn.” He gave the reindeer a final pat on his muzzle and pulled himself together enough to give Spock a superficial grin. “Come on, Spock. Let’s head back and get some dinner.”

Their eyes met, and Spock seemed to take an extra moment before he replied. “Very well, Jim.”

*

Three days before Christmas, Spock and Jim were enjoying a breakfast of oatmeal (or in Jim’s case, a bowl of brown sugar with a sprinkling of oatmeal) when there came a knock at the door. Jim opened it to find three Elves standing outside. He invited them in, enjoying look on Spock’s face as he took in the sight of their outfits – same pointy hats and pointy shoes as all the other Elves, but all black instead of red and green, and accessorized with miniature aviator sunglasses. “Security Elves,” he explained over his shoulder. He listened intently as they gave their report in high-pitched voices. “Damn.” 

“What is it?” Spock asked.

“They think the cloaking field is failing, and that leaves us vulnerable. And now” – he couldn’t help but shoot a glance at the calendar on the wall, which rudely reminded him that it was **3 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS EVE** – “now is an especially bad time to be vulnerable.”

“Pardon me, Jim, but I must ask…vulnerable to _what_?”

Jim sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Who knows?! The enemies come out of the woodwork every couple of years – the Grinch, Professor Hinkle, the Krampus, Jack Frost, ExxonMobil… Point is, it’s in our best interest to stay off the radar, so to speak, and for the most part the cloaking field does the job…as long as it’s working.”

He noticed Spock’s raised eyebrows and it occurred to him that it probably wasn’t common knowledge that Santa’s Village required such extensive protection measures.

“May I take a look?”

Jim considered Spock’s offer. He certainly couldn’t spare the time, and Spock did seem pretty handy… “Alright, but take Cupcake with you. It’s Elven technology so just in case you can’t figure out what you’re looking at, maybe he can help.” 

Jim gestured to his rather burly (for an Elf) head of security, smirking at Spock’s skeptical glance. “I don’t name ‘em,” he said with a shrug. “Cupcake, take Spock around the perimeter and check out the deflectors. Spock, bundle up, it’s cold out there.” He walked them to the door and glanced up at the overcast sky with trepidation. His unexpected promotion to Santa Claus years ago had brought with it a particular set of skills, including surprisingly accurate meteorological instincts. “It’ll snow soon, but hopefully it will hold out long enough for you to make it around. Report back to me once you’ve finished.” He looked at Spock. “Be careful out there.”

Spock nodded and turned to follow Cupcake out into the snow. Jim had a strange feeling, as though he wanted to give Spock a hug, and his stomach did a little flip. Instead, he called out to them from the open door. “Hey Spock! If you see my friend Frosty the Snowman out there, say hi!”

Spock turned back, and the expression on his face was priceless. Behind his raised eyebrow, Jim could just picture his internal struggle, the urge to apply logic battling it out with his recent discovery of the existence of Santa Claus. Apparently his trust in Jim won out. “I shall…do so,” was his hesitant response. 

Jim couldn’t contain his laughter. “I’m kidding, Spock. A snowman brought to life by magic? That’s highly unscientific.” He winked, but Spock just turned around, and Jim was pretty sure he still didn’t know what to believe. He stepped back into the cottage, wondering if maybe he should have just given Spock a hug. And a warmer hat.

*

Jim stayed busy in the village all day, making sure that things were running smoothly, double checking lists, calibrating transporters, dealing with a ribbon shortage – the usual. In the back of his mind, he thought constantly of Spock, hoping that that he and Cupcake were getting along, and that they’d managed to identify and fix whatever the problem was with the cloaking field. As he fought his way back to the cottage in the beginnings of a swirling blizzard, his only thought was whether Spock had made it back before him.

But the house was empty, and seemed chillier than usual. He worked quickly to stoke the fire, adding logs until a cheery blaze lit the hearth and began to penetrate the cold air. He made himself a mug of hot chocolate, and he paced.

He was still pacing two hours later as the wind roared outside, and every rattle of the shutters had him jumping and moving toward the door. He’d made six calls to the Elves, but they hadn’t been able to reach Cupcake on their communicators, nor were they particularly concerned, as Elves found this type of weather positively balmy. Nevertheless, he was about to pick up the phone again when there was a sound at the door, not a knock, but a crash, as it banged open to let in a blast of cold air and a husky Elf staggering under the weight of a weak and shivering Vulcan. 

Jim rushed forward to catch Spock, wrapping strong arms around his waist and lifting him from Cupcake’s grasp. “I’ve got him, Cupcake. Thank you. You get home now, I’ll check in with you in the morning.” He wasn’t about to listen to a full report, not with Spock half-frozen in his arms. Cupcake nodded and headed back out into the cold, closing the door behind him. 

Jim led Spock over next to the fire and sat him down on the sheepskin rug. He rubbed vigorously at Spock’s upper arms, trying to get his blood flowing. Spock’s eyes were hazy and out of focus, so Jim put his hands on Spock’s cheeks, trying to get him to see. “Spock, it’s me, it’s Jim. You’re safe now, okay? I’m going to warm you up. Just…just stay here for one second and I’ll be right back.” He was loathe to leave Spock’s side, but he knew that blankets and a warm drink would help more than anything he could do. He ran to his bedroom, stripping the bed of all of its quilts and furs and fleeces and bringing them back to wrap and pile around Spock. Then to the kitchen to top off his mug of steaming chocolate which he thrust into Spock’s ice-cold hands, watching him intently as he took a long sip. Jim slid closer, pulling the blankets more tightly around them both, and finally wrapping his arms around Spock, wishing there was more he could do to share the warmth of his body.

He could feel Spock, his muscles stiff within the circle of Jim’s arms, still trembling from the cold. Jim realized that he had no idea how Vulcans responded to the cold, how long it would take for him to warm up, or whether there was anything else he should be doing. As these thoughts raced through his mind, rising to a panic, he felt Spock sink infinitesimally into his arms, his limbs loosening ever so slightly. His teeth ceased their chattering, and Jim sighed in relief, pulling the blankets even closer. 

“Jim, w-w-we f-f-fixed it,” Spock managed. Jim was torn, happy that Spock could speak but not wanting him to overexert himself in his weakened state. He put a finger to Spock’s lips and found that they were still cold.

“Shhhh…don’t try to talk. You can tell me all about it later.”

“Th-the c-coupling on the…third deflector-“

“Spock! Stop talking! Here, drink some more hot cocoa.” He pushed the mug up to Spock’s lips and held it there until the cocoa was gone, watching the line of Spock’s throat as he swallowed down the thick beverage. Then he set the mug aside and settled in close, rubbing a hand absently across Spock’s back. 

“I th-think we can enhance it f-further-“

Jim could still hear the strain in his voice, the struggle to make his mouth form words, the residual shivers running through his body. Desperate to stop him from saying another word, Jim pressed his lips firmly to Spock’s mouth. 

His boldness surprised him, but Spock didn’t seem to register any shock. Instead, Jim felt him relax, felt his body go slack and his breath even out. Spock’s lips were finally warm beneath his, and he lingered in the kiss for another moment before he realized that Spock had fallen asleep in his arms. 

*

Jim was roused from his deep, warm sleep by a shrill babbling coming from somewhere over his head. He propped himself up on an elbow and rubbed his eyes as the evening slowly came back to him. He was just registering that he and Spock were still in front of the fireplace, still tangled in the nest of blankets, only now there was a very angry Elf standing over him shaking a paper in his face. Jim blinked until the paper came into focus. It was from his calendar, and shouted in bold red letters **TWO DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS EVE**.

“Okay, okay, Gumdrop, I get it, I get it.” Jim struggled to his feet. To be honest, he did feel slightly guilty about sleeping late this close to Christmas. No matter how many times he’d been through it, no matter how automated, there was always a sense of heightened anxiety in the air that even the Elves felt, one that threatened to tip into mild panic if he felt like things were falling behind. He leaned down, stroking his hand across Spock’s cheek. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

Spock opened his eyes without stirring. His expression was calm and serious as he gazed at Jim. 

“I have to head into work, but I’ll try to stop by this afternoon. You stay here. Stay warm. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen.” He straightened up and started for the door, turning back to admonish Spock one more time. “Seriously, Spock. Don’t try to do anything. The deflectors can wait.” He could tell Spock wanted to argue, but waited until he nodded in resigned agreement to follow Gumdrop out the door.

*

True to his word, Jim found a moment to stop by the cottage in the early afternoon. He stepped inside to find Spock by the fire, folding the blankets they had slept in the night before, and placing them neatly on the easy chair. He straightened up as he caught sight of Jim. They looked at each other for a long moment, then Jim rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Spock. 

“Hello, Jim.” Jim thought he heard a bemused smile in Spock’s voice – or he would have, if he’d ever seen Spock smile. 

“You’re warm.” 

“Thanks to you.”

“And Cupcake.”

“Ah yes. We cannot forget Cupcake.”

Jim chuckled and let go, but not before he felt the brush of Spock’s arms around his waist.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better. I wanted to come by to check on you, but I’ve got to get back to work. You stay here, and I’ll be back-“

“I will accompany you.”

“No, Spock.”

“Yes, Jim. I am fit for duty, and you will not convince me otherwise. Christmas is nigh, and I would imagine that you could use ‘all hands on deck,’ so to speak.”

Jim looked at him with a renewed sense of appreciation. “Well, you’re right about that. Okay, you can come with me. But I’m giving you something easy to do! Something that involves…sitting.”

*

“Spock, be careful up there!” 

“Jim, I am fine! Please, go tend to your other responsibilities.”

Jim bit his lip as he watched Spock shift on the top of the ladder to get a better look at Transporter 25C. It had been acting buggy for a while, and Jim had made the mistake of mentioning it in front of Spock, who was supposed to be on stocking stuffer duty. Jim knew there was a stack of Elf-help tickets waiting to be dealt with, so he reluctantly pulled himself away.

It was Spock who came to find him late in the evening, standing by the conveyor belt and staring nervously at the long line of presents yet to be wrapped. He felt a hand on his shoulder and heard Spock’s voice next to his ear. “Come on, Jim. You need your rest, and something to eat.”

“I had dinner,” Jim insisted.

“Twenty-seven candy canes does not a dinner make, Jim. Now come on, let’s get you back to the cottage.” Jim shot an accusatory look at the Elf standing beside Spock, who he was pretty sure was the one who’d ratted him out for the candy cane dinner. “The Elves have everything under control,” Spock reassured him. Jim wanted to protest, but he knew that Spock was right. Every year, he wondered anxiously how the endless stream of presents would all get wrapped and ready for transport in time, and every year they did, the last present coming down the line just before dawn began breaking n Nome, Alaska.

They walked back together, their boots crunching over the snow. The stars gleamed brilliantly in the sky, and Jim found his gaze drawn to Spock’s shuttle, and his thoughts to the day that Spock would take off in it, flying through those stars and away from the North Pole. Away from him. He stifled an urge to reach out and grab Spock’s mittened hand with his own.

Back at the cottage, he heated up a pot of stew and they sat together at the kitchen table, saying little as they ate. Jim suggested a game of chess, and Spock agreed, beating him soundly in an embarrassingly short amount of time. “I’m out of practice,” Jim said with a wry grin. 

“Indeed.”

“Another game?”

“Jim. Unless you want another angry Elf waking you up in the morning, I suggest you go to bed without further delay.”

“Stay with me.”

He hadn’t meant to say it, or at least not to blurt it out like that. But in the time it took to feel his cheeks redden, he also realized that Spock hadn’t said no. 

“I mean, if you want to. I mean, I’d like you to, if you want to. But if you don’t want to, you don’t have to, if you don’t-“

“I will stay.”

“You will?”

Spock glanced toward the door. “It is…cold outside.”

“Yes, it is,” Jim agreed. “And what with your little adventure yesterday, you wouldn’t want to risk-“

“Indeed. I believe you can provide me with warmth…of a kind that cannot be found on my shuttle.”

Jim found himself suddenly unable to speak. He swallowed hard and, no words presenting themselves, stood and reached for Spock’s hand, practically pulling him into the bedroom. 

His confidence evaporated once they reached the bedroom, and he stopped so abruptly that Spock crashed into him, the momentum carrying them both onto the bed. It was Spock who reached for him then, a warm hand on the back of his head pulling him in for a long, soft kiss. Jim’s breath caught in his chest. His hands clutched at Spock’s shirt and he made an embarrassing sound in the back of his throat when Spock pulled away.

“Are you cold?” Spock asked him. 

The question caught him off guard. He felt as though his skin were burning. “Am I what?”

“Are you cold, Jim? You’re trembling.” His hand cupped Jim’s cheek, as if to hold him steady, and Jim brought his fingers up to interlace with them.

“No, I’m not cold. I’m…I’m excited.” His grin was interrupted by Spock’s lips on his again, more insistent this time, their mouths open now, together, tongues tangling as their bodies pressed closer. 

The sound of sleigh bells filled the bedroom with a sudden merry jangling. Jim barely noticed, but Spock pulled away with a start. Jim grunted in frustration and reached across the bed for the phone. He listened as an Elf back at headquarters reported that one of the conveyor belts was glitching. “Try rerouting the power through the secondary hub. Yeah, that should work. Thanks, Crumpet.” He hung up and turned back to Spock, happy to see that he was still there, still leaning toward him, his eyes half-closed. They swiftly closed the gap between them, pressing first their lips, and then the length of their bodies together. Spock slid a leg over Jim’s thighs, pinning him to the bed. Jim felt the heat of Spock’s palm sliding up under his Christmas sweater. 

Jim couldn’t help the way that his body was responding to Spock’s touch, arching up beneath him, gasping as Spock’s fingers grazed his chest. He wanted more, and a sudden image of the two of them naked and tangled together beneath his comforter danced in his head. As if reading his mind, Spock tugged at the bottom of his sweater, and Jim let him pull it up and off over his head, leaving his chest exposed to the warmth of the bedroom and the heat of Spock’s gaze. He was reaching for Spock’s shirt, eager to return the gesture, when they were once again rudely interrupted by the sound of the bells.

Gritting his teeth, Jim grabbed for the phone. “What is it?” he said, in what he admitted was a less-than-jolly tone. Sprinkles didn’t seem to notice, as she asked him whether they should run the customary Naughty List purge for minor offenses. “Yes, of course. Just do what you always do, you really don’t need to ask me. Okay, yes, I understand that it’s policy, but just use your best judgement. Yes, we can have the Policy Committee review that at the next meeting. Thank you, Sprinkles.” He hung up and rolled his eyes, feeling bad for snapping. He stared off into space for a moment, gathering himself, until he felt Spock tug him back to reality. “Jim?”

He felt his body relax under Spock’s touch. “Yes, sorry Spock. I’m here.” Wrapping a hand around Spock’s head, he pulled him in for a deep kiss. Spock guided him back onto the bed, their hips pressing together, desire pulsing in his groin. He felt Spock’s breath catch in tandem with his, and their fingers tangled together in their eager attempt to remove each other’s pants. Jim’s heart was pounding and his cheeks were so hot, he felt like a kettle about to boil over. In a desperate move to slow things down, he grabbed Spock’s hand in his and pulled it up to his lips, even as he kicked his pants off and intertwined their bare legs beneath the covers. Spock responded by moving rhythmically against him.

“Spock,” he breathed. “Slow down.”

Spock paused but didn’t pull away. “Jim?” He gazed into Jim’s eyes with an expression of concern.

Jim ran his fingers through Spock’s hair and tried to calm his breathing. “I just…I want to make it last. I like the…the anticipation.”

With agonizing slowness, Spock leaned down to press a firm kiss to Jim’s lips in response. “Yeah,” Jim whispered. “Like that.”

The moment was perfect…until it was rudely disrupted by a frantic knocking at the cottage door. 

“Jim,” Spock said, with measured calm, pulling away only enough to speak. “Am I correct in my assumption that these interruptions are likely to continue throughout the evening?”

The heat of Jim’s desire was quickly turning to a boiling rage. He growled in frustration as he practically shoved Spock aside and stomped to the door. At the last minute, he remembered to grab a knit blanket off the couch, which he wrapped hastily around his waist before opening the door. A shock of cold air hit him, but he hardly felt it. “What is it, Fisbee?” he barked at the rather startled looking Elf standing at the door. He barely heard what Fisbee was saying, he was so focused on preparing his response. “Listen, Fizz, you have the conn. If it’s not going to ruin Christmas, figure it out. I really need you to step up and handle any problems without me for the next six hours.” The chastened Fisbee nodded as he backed away into the snowy night. 

Back in the bedroom, Spock was sitting up against the headboard, looking comfortable and unbelievably sexy. “Spock, I’m so sorry. I told him-“

“I heard. And I appreciate your enthusiasm, Jim, but I believe six hours might be a bit excessive…”

“Relax, Spock. I was also hoping to get some sleep?”

Spock did seem to relax at that, and Jim took the hand that he offered, letting himself be tugged back onto the bed and into Spock’s arms. The wind whistled outside the window as Spock pulled him close enough to whisper in his ear. “Miles to go before we sleep.”

And that was all Jim needed to be back where he had been before the third (and final) Elf interruption – heart pounding, body thrumming with desire, stomach tight with anticipation. This time he was the one to make the first move, mashing his mouth against Spock’s in a hungry kiss. In a moment they were completely naked, sheltered within a cave of blankets and surrounding each other with their bodies. 

Spock did as Jim had asked, teasing him with anticipation, bringing him close to the edge again and again, each time pausing at the last minute to kiss him deeply or to nibble at his earlobe. And when he finally thrust into Jim, pushing him over the edge, it was as though stars exploded behind Jim’s eyes, as though he were flying through space, soaring above the earth with the stomach-dropping awe of seeing the ground far beneath him.

When it was over they lay together, the sweat cooling on their bodies, blankets forgotten on the floor. On the one hand, Jim wanted to stay forever in this comfortable, peaceful silence. On the other hand, he was Jim Kirk, and he couldn’t help himself.

“So…was that the best sex you ever had with a mythical being, or what?” Jim watched Spock’s brow furrow as though he were considering the question. “You know what, I don’t even want to _know_ what you’re comparing me to right now.”

“I think it safe to say, Jim, that there is…no one else like you, anywhere.”

Jim’s eyes twinkled and he grinned with delight. “I was hoping you’d say that. I was also hoping you might want to…stay for a while.” His nerves got the best of him and the rest of his words tumbled out in a rush. “It’s just, I’ll be really busy for the next two days, and I may not get to see you. And I’d really like to see you. And I thought maybe you’d want to see what happens around here _after_ Christmas. You know…for science.”

“Hmm.”

Jim bit his lip, afraid of what “Hmm” meant coming from a Vulcan science explorer who’d just gotten his jollies with the only eligible bachelor in the North Pole (the Elves didn’t count). 

“I do feel that there is more…scientific study to be done in this region.”

“You do?”

“Indeed. I think I will stay. And after all…”

“After all…what?”

“You may need my help again next Christmas.”

“Oh yes. I’m pretty sure I will.”

“Very well. Then I am yours.”

Jim swallowed, overcome by an emotion that he was pretty sure went beyond mere joy. “Spock.” He let his fingers trail across Spock’s cheek, his voice coming out as a whisper. “You’re the best present anyone has ever given me.”

“Merry Christmas, Jim.”

“And to us, a good night.”


End file.
